bridges, under whose shadow we floated, as the gondolier gave a cry of warning to approaching gondolas; these seemed to fly past us, as though they were immense birds of night. At first the darkness was unbroken by a single light; but soon we emerged into a wider street (or canal), and came to a palace, whence brilliant rays streamed from every window, and music from the thronged saloons filled the air. A fleet of gondolas was gathered around, and from them stepped out richly dressed women and dark cavaliers. They tripped up the marble stairway, and entered the ancient palace. It was a wedding-feast there that night, they told us, and hence the gay assemblage. Then by the theatre, beneath the Rialto, to the Riva dei Schiavoni, where we landed at a little quai, and thence into the Mocenigo Palace (now a hotel called the "Reale Danieli.”) About the vestibule were many lingering traces of its former splendor. Lofty columns, supported on the shoulders of kneeling statues of negro slaves, sustained the roof, all frescoed and gilded. A wide marble staircase led to the stories above. Thence we passed along winding passages to a suite of rooms (twelve in number) appropriated to us. There were great saloons, with mirrors touched by the mildew of ages,-faded pictures looking from the walls, beds within gloomy alcoves, before which hung draperies of heavy silk, and floors (of a species of mosaic) cold and hard as stone.

With only a partial glance at our labyrinth of apartments, ante-chambers, and mysterious corridors, we hastened to bed; for we were very weary. Just as "sleep came at our bidding," we were aroused by a serenade under our window. We sprang up, and, wrapping our mantles around us, went out upon the balcony. Beneath its shadow was a gondola, with several musicians. They sang a sweet Venetian melo

dy, accompanied by the guitar. It was bewitching; and with delight we exclaimed, "This is indeed the Venice of our dreams!" This is indeed the Venice, " of joy the sojourn." We stood enjoying the scene until the clock struck twelvethen sought repose.

CHAPTER XXVI.

"There is a glorious city in the sea.

The sea is in the broad, the narrow streets,
Ebbing and flowing; and the salt sea-weed
Clings to the marble of her palaces."

ENCHANTING Were the beautiful days of our sojourn in Venice; life was filled with a new joy as we lingered there. Days and hours glided away upon a tide of pleasurable emotions, while it seemed as though wings gently bore us up, wafting us from scene to scene of interest. It was like a delicious dream in which the past was mingled with the present; all was so different from the world we had known before, in its mystical, unique, and strange character. The climate was delightful, the air fresh and balmy, and we felt, as in the Island of Cuba, the mere breathing of the atmosphere was an enjoyment. Long days we passed in the gondola, and hours of the night upon the Lagoons, and in the "water-streets." We never felt weariness, or the need of sleep, so completely were we absorbed in the novel existence of wonderful Venice :

"Throned on her thousand isles,

She looks a Sea-Cybele fresh from ocean,
Rising with her tiara of proud towers!"

CATHEDRAL OF SAN MARCO.

229

We visited all the old palaces, churches, galleries, and dungeons. But the Cathedral of San Marco claimed our. greatest admiration; it is a majestic edifice, partaking of the Saracenic grandeur, while it presents the form of the Greek cross. Great domes and minarets adorn the summit, like those of a Turkish mosque. The façade is covered with mosaics and sculpture. Just above the central doorway are the world-renowned bronze horses, about whose origin such mystery hangs. They have at least been travellers in their day; as history tells us, they were brought from Alexandria to Rome, from Rome to Constantinople, thence to Venice; from Venice to Paris, and after the downfall of Napoléon, returned to their ancient position, whence they seem springing forward, so bold and spirited are their forms.

It was

The Church of San Marco was built in 976, purposely to contain the precious relics of the Saint. During the glorious days of Venice, it was the custom of all home-returning ships to bring some treasure to the "Ducal Chapel," (as it was first styled.) Passing through the archway, sustained by pillars, (of which there are hundreds, and each one a trophy of Venetian conquest,) we entered the Cathedral. some time ere the eye could become accustomed to the confusion and profusion of ornament within its walls; there was such elaborate gilding, such gorgeous mosaics upon a golden ground, such forests of columns, of verd antique, of jasper, of porphyry, of alabaster-such enormous doors of bronze, upon which Sansovino spent twenty years in carving "The Death and Resurrection of the Saviour." Then the altars with rich vessels of gold and silver, inlaid with rare jewels, and the sacred chapel, with religious relics of priceless value. The floors are uneven, as though they were purposely made to imitate the undulating of the sea-waves. The pavement of

tesselated marble is much injured by time. In front of the great door are several squares of red marble, indicating the spot where the Emperor Frederic Barbarossa bowed his head when the Pope, Alexander III., placed his foot upon his neck, repeating the words of the Psalmist: "Thou shalt tread upon the lion and the adder!" The grand altar, under which reposes the body of Saint Mark, was brought from Saint Sophia, at Constantinople. It has columns of Parian marble curiously carved. There are very few paintings in the Cathedral; all the pictures are in mosaic, illustrative of incidents in the history of the Saint.

Just in front of San Marco are three tall red masts, in dicative of the three great conquests of the republic; these were Cyprus, Candia, and the Morea. In ancient days, three gonfalons, or banners of silk and gold, floated from them; now, upon important occasions, they support the flag of Austria. The Tower of the Clock" is near by; it has two gigantic Moorish figures in bronze, which strike the hours on a dazzling dial of azure and gold.

The Piazza di San Marco is the only square in Venice; it is the focus where all the rays of life concentrate. It is paved, and surrounded on three sides by lofty buildings, with a fringe of graceful arcades uniting them. On the fourth side it is bounded by the noble Cathedral. In the Piazzetta di San Marco, just where we landed from the gondola, we saw the Winged Lion of St. Mark. It stands on the summit of a granite column, and near by it, on a similar column, is the statue of Saint Theodore. The lion was taken by the French to "des Invalides " at Paris, but after a brief sojourn there, returned to Venice.

As we left the Cathedral it was about two o'clock, and we found the square of St. Mark absolutely paved with pigeons, devouring the grain which numerous persons were